Vampire
by Evandar
Summary: Oneshot. There's something odd about L.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Death Note_ and I'm making no profit from this story.

**AN:** This was written in fragments in between bursts of dissertation (which was on a completely unrelated subject, btw) so it was finished aaaaaaaaaaages ago. I just had to put it into order a bit.

By the way, there's spoilers for L and Watari's real names. Do I still have to warn for that?

Vampire

by Evandar

1.

There was something wrong with L. Souichiro Yagami had known it from the moment he'd first met the man in person, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. The stooped back, pale skin and dark circles under the eyes could be explained away with bad posture, a poor diet, insomnia and hardly ever going outside. They weren't common features, but they weren't too uncommon. His preferred style of clothing and his refusal to touch things with more than just his fingertips could be a sign of a functional level of autism. That would explain his vast calculative abilities and his inability to communicate well with others. Again, it was nothing too uncommon to be more than a mild curiosity.

But there was still something about L that bothered him. That bothered him more, in fact, than the fact that the investigation turned rapidly towards his own family. What it was struck him the night he sat watching his family sleep in their beds on CCTV, sitting alone with L, whose wide black eyes never left the screens in front of him.

It was the smell. Not that L smelled particularly bad. He smelled of dust and something slightly acidic that reminded Souichiro of old books. But there was something else that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something metallic and pungent that reminded him of a suicide he'd seen – a young woman floating in a bath with her wrists slashed open, her blood staining the water; her skin with the same bluish tint that lingered sometimes in L's fingertips and toes and around his mouth.

It was the only thing about L that he couldn't explain away with rational-minded excuses.

2.

For a while, he'd thought the man who'd plucked him from the slums of London was like any other. A bit odder, perhaps, and a great deal richer. He could remember thinking that the man would take payment through touch, and he'd slipped a knife under his pillow the first night just in case, but he never did. Instead, the man paid for his vaccinations and his food and his education without taking anything in return. When he'd mentioned it, all he'd got was a strange little smile that didn't look entirely right on the man's face. In time, he'd learned to trust him. By the time he'd realised that his patron – the great detective L – wasn't aging, it was too late. He'd already agreed to be L's public face and to work for him for the rest of his life because while L had never asked for anything from him, Quillsh had always felt a bit guilty for taking advantage of his charity.

So he hadn't said a word. He'd merely carried on with his duties and didn't ask why L seemed to be frozen permanently at twenty five. He didn't ask when his duties began to include dealing with large quantities of human blood – purchased, it seemed, from the black market or illegally from blood banks. L wasn't hurting anyone, directly at least, and Quillsh's silence and service seemed like a fair price to pay for all the things that L had done for him.

3.

She had been complaining about him stealing all of her Light-kun's time and her hand had risen of its own accord and before she could stop herself she was poking L in the chest with one, perfectly manicured finger, and it had felt…wrong somehow. His flesh had been hard and oddly cold under her touch. She'd squeaked and jerked her hand away and glared at him accusingly as she shook her hand out to try, and he'd just smiled that creepy smile of his.

It had been days ago, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd touched something dead.

4.

It was just a paper cut. And yet, it had drawn L's attention from the other side of the room. The detective didn't even look up from his computer. He just said, "please clean that up, Matsuda-san," and kept working as if nothing had happened.

It was cool, in a way, that L had been able to notice it. Cool, but creepy. As Matsuda walked to the kitchenette to look for the first aid box, he could have sworn that L was watching him after all.

5.

Light Yagami had sent her on a fool's errand. The numbers that floated above L's head were stationary. They didn't count the passing of his every breath; his every second on the earth. They didn't count down towards the moment of his death. They were still. She had heard whispers in the Shinigami Realm of creatures that looked human, but that were frozen in time – not alive; not dead – and cursed to walk the earth forever. Not even the Death Note could kill them. It only killed humans. She'd heard, but she'd never seen one before. Not until L.

Knowing that he wasn't human frightened Rem. She'd known she would die from this task, but she hadn't realised that she would fail. And with her failure, Misa would still be in danger – even more danger, perhaps, if the death of Quillsh Whammy meant anything to the detective. Yagami would rage and he would think himself into corners, because even though his discovery of a Death Note had opened his eyes to the existence of the supernatural, he still didn't believe.

6.

The screens had gone red and blank. L's teaspoon had clattered to the desk top and his eyes had gone wide. Rem had gone, leaving Light behind to claim his victory over L's dead body. All that was left was for L to die.

He didn't.

Instead, he gave a soft sigh that rattled in his thin chest, and picked up his spoon again with spidery fingers. He stirred his drink – it wasn't tea, even if it did come from a tea pot. Tea wasn't that shade of red – before lifting the cup to his lips and taking an idle sip. "It would appear Watari is dead," he said calmly.

Light grit his teeth in frustration. Rem must have died before she'd had the chance to write his full name down. It was the only explanation. L's gaze slid towards him, and his lip curved into one of his unnatural smiles. For some reason, Light felt a shudder run down his spine. L still had no evidence, he knew, to place the blame on him. But that didn't stop him from feeling afraid.

7.

He found the Death Note in a pile of dust on the floor. The dust had the same scent as the Shinigami. She was dead. He picked the book up by its corner, and opened it to the last used page. Two names stared back up at him.

_Quillsh__Whammy_

_ L Lawliet_

He laughed softly to himself, and closed the notebook. He would burn it later, he thought. He couldn't leave things like that lying around.


End file.
